


Drunk Simon is Dumb Simon

by I_am_a_Ruin



Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bram tries so hard, M/M, Simon is a disaster gay, Simon is such a lightweight, Simon yells, Underage Drinking, but its a misunderstanding, everyone is awkward, it is sorted out, simon calls him cute a fuckton, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 04:12:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14276652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_a_Ruin/pseuds/I_am_a_Ruin
Summary: What if the whole crew went to the club with them that night?In which Simon is a drunk disaster and Bram tries to be courageous for once in his life.





	Drunk Simon is Dumb Simon

**Author's Note:**

> I got the beginning dialogue stuck in my head this morning. I tried to ignore it because I'm working on a different Spierfeld piece but it wouldn't go away and I just had to write it out. So here you go.

“Simon. Simon. Look at me.” Bram is saying but I think the world is actually swimming so I’m having a hard time following what he’s asking. 

Tonight was sort of crazy. Nick and Abby totally surprised me with this one, but its a good surprise. Getting sloshed was probably not my best idea, but right now I don’t care. Peter was definitely so far the nicest person I think I’ve ever met besides Blue. But Blue doesn’t want to meet me, because he knows its me now. I’m not sure I even blame him. I’m a trainwreck.

But right now. Right now I’m flying. Or swimming or whatever. I don’t know, but I feel really good.  Garrett thinks I’m a goddamn riot. I think he and I could be pretty good friends if I ever took the time to actually get out of my own head. He keeps cracking up at everything I’m saying while Nick and Abby look bemused. Leah is pissy, no fucking surpise there. And Bram. I’m actually not sure why he came. Probably for Leah. 

God.

But he’s quiet and still so cute. We left pretty soon after Peter dropped me back off with my friends and I’m trying super hard to not be obvious about how I wanna ogle Bram but also resent him for being dumb and straight. 

I asked for my shirt. Which everyone is trying to make me understand is a horrible, wretched plan because they’re evil and hate everything good I guess. But I need that shirt, so I’m not really listening. I think I might be rambling about it, arguing with them on why I have to have it. 

“Noooo. No. It’s not to wear.” I say, falling even though I’m buckled up properly and not actually moving. But I can feel it, twisting around in my seat to stare at the people in the back so they get it. Guys. So obvious.

“Then what’s it for?” Abby asks, and I don’t even look at her because Leah is scowling so hard and Bram is staring at me like I grew a second head.

“I can’t wear it,” I explain, turning back around because my stomach is twisting again. “That would be weird. I have it under my pillow.” 

And Garrett is howling with laughter in the farthest seat while I can practically hear Nick rolling his eyes and Abby chuckling internally. 

“Because that’s not weird.” says Nick.

“It’s an Elliott Smith shirt.” And that’s all I get out  before my stomach decides I definitely am going to puke. “Stop the car.”

And Abby does, jerking it to a halt and I fall out of my seat to empty the contents of my stomach. Except, nothing comes up. I just gasp, heaving, collecting freezing air and returning it as carbon dioxide. 

Someone gets out too. He grabs my arm carefully and pulls me away from the others. I’m still collecting myself, so it takes me a second to actually see Bram’s face. 

“Simon. Simon. Look at me.” Bram is saying but I think the world is actually swimming so I’m having a hard time following what he’s asking. 

“Hm?” I hum, trying to steady myself and stop falling into him. 

“Simon,” He’s trying and he looks super embarrassed. I think he’s having about as much trouble speaking as I am with standing upright. “I’m…. I-I’m Blue.” 

And suddenly I’m stone fucking sober. If I didn’t feel so sick, I think I’d hit him. Shock turns into flaming anger boiling in my stomach and spewing out of me. “How fucking dare you. Where’s Martin? I’m going to kill him.” I’m still rambling so maybe I’m not as sober as I think I am.

Bram’s flushed face turns almost hilariously confused. “What? Martin? What does M-”

“Oh, yes. Haha very funny. You can stop messing with me. I’m smarter than you think I am dammit.” I’m pretty sure I’m tapping my head, which looks really stupid, so I’m not exactly proving my point. “Martin put you up to this. Who fucking told you anyways? My life is not a goddamn joke, okay? I can’t believe I thought you were cute.” And I’m crying. Great Simon. “You’re so cruel. Just leave me alone.”

“Simon, this… this isn’t a joke.” Bram looks really upset but he’s also blushing super hard. I’m having trouble thinking. My head is throbbing and my heart is pounding like its trying to ram out of my chest. 

“Blue doesn’t want anything to do with me, okay? He found out it was me and he doesn’t want me. So you can just knock it off.” I shake my head, trying to stop fucking crying because I’m ridiculous but I also… “God I want it to be true so badly. Which is why I know its not. The universe would never be this nice to me.” I don’t understand why Bram won’t let go of me or why he’s staring and I realize that I am speaking out loud. Fuck.

“Simon, you didn’t look inside the shirt, did you?” Bram says and I gawk at him.

“No, I just told you. It’s not to  _ wear.”  _

“I should have known you wouldn’t wear it.” Bram smiles softly, and then takes a deep breath like he needs it to steady himself. I find myself doing the same because I could use a little balance too. “Simon. I’m not messing with you. And… I do want you. I-I… I’ve wanted you for a long…. long time. I… please just look inside the shirt.” 

“Why?” I sound like a petulant child, but I don’t even care. 

“I wrote it… I wrote it for a reason. I can’t… I’m not good at this, Simon. You-you make me really nervous.” 

I realize he is actually shaking and it’s not just my drunk vision. Before I can try to force myself to understand, he’s dragging me back to the car. Everyone stares at us for a long time before Abby unparks and starts driving again. 

“So. What just happened?”

“I’m sure they’ll tell us later.” Garrett’s voice is weirdly high pitched, but I don’t care. I don’t care because I’m trying so hard to think about what Bram said. Why? Why does he want me to look inside the shirt? Nothing makes sense. 

“So are we picking up this stupid shirt?” Nick asks from the backseat, sounding tired. 

“No. Are you fucking kidding? If he needs it to sleep so bad, he can stay awake all night. His mom would kill all of us if she knew Simon was drunk.” Leah snaps. 

So we don’t pick up my shirt and I whine about it for awhile, but then Nick is distracting me with a glass of water. I end up sleeping on the floor without a pillow anyways.

When I wake up, my head is throbbing so hard, I have to stay in Abby’s room with the lights off all morning. Garrett and Bram are gone, and so are Nick and Leah. Abby brings me breakfast and lunch and when I keep both down and don’t feel so much like my body is going to explode, she drives me home. 

My parents are out and Nora is still gone, as per her new norm so it’s just me and Bieber. I don’t remember my conversation with Bram until I’m halfway through the third Harry Potter movie. (Fuck off. I was feeling nostalgic and I needed something to cheer me up. My life was sort of shitty right now in case you forgot.)

I pause it instantly, tripping and falling because I’m so tangled up in blankets in my haste to get to my room. I take the stairs two at a time, panting by the time I get there because I don’t even know what it means to be ‘in shape.’ 

The shirt is peeking out from under my pillow. I walk slowly over to it, trying to catch my breath. I hold the shirt for a few minutes, before pressing it to my face. I don’t know why, but I’m almost hoping if I inhale enough, I’ll catch the smallest whiff of my Blue. The Blue that doesn’t want me. But maybe he does. I peer inside the shirt and sure enough, there’s another note. I can’t fucking believe I didn’t see it sooner. I pull it out, carefully laying the shirt on my bed as my eyes stare unseeing at the note. My fingers are trembling so hard. I sit down, trying to force myself to be able to fucking  _ read. _

_ “P.S. I love the way you smile like you don’t realize you’re doing it. I love your perpetual bed head. I love the way you hold eye contact a moment longer than you need to. And I love your moon-gray eyes. So if you think I’m not attracted to you, Simon, you’re crazy.” _

And a set of numbers. Blue’s number. Oh my God. 

“I’m Blue.” he said. He told me. He… he must have thought I… I don’t even know. I’m scrambling to find my phone now so I can punch in his number. There’s a tingling feeling that radiates outward from a point below my stomach--wrenching and wonderful and almost unbearable. I’ve never been so aware of my own heartbeat.

Oh my God. 

I have to enter the number in more than once because I keep messing it up because I’m shaking so hard, but then it’s there. And I’m torn between just calling him or texting him. 

He said he was nervous about me calling. But that was before he straight up  _ told  _ me who is was. I can’t even believe he worked up that courage. Blue, who gets tongue-tied around cute boys. Around  _ me,  _ apparently. He told me and… I yelled at him.

I end up calling him because I’m going to be brave like him too.

The second I know he’s picked up, I’m talking his ear off, trying to fit as many words in this one breath as I can.

“I’m so sorry. Oh my God. I’m an asshole. I’m sorry. I just- I can’t believe it. You’re Blue. Which isn’t a bad thing. I think maybe you thought I thought it was bad. But I don’t. I-I’m… I can’t even. I think, thought, think you’re cute. I think I told you that last night. But, yeah. I- you’re cute which is why. I’m so stupid.”

“No you’re not,” his voice is so soft and gentle, I can’t help grinning into the phone like a moron.

“You’re Blue.” 

“Yeah,” he breaths and I hope he can’t tell I’m actually jumping around my room having a quick stupid dance party because I’m so excited, I can’t contain it, hangover or no. When I don’t say anything, he speaks up. “That’s okay?”

“More than okay. I’m so sorry. Bram. C-can we meet up?” I might be using my best pleading voice because I can’t remember ever wanting something so badly in my life.

“Okay.” 

****

We end up at WaHo because it’s the only place I trust myself to not make a total idiot out of myself. Even then, it’s risky. But I guess I already did that last night, so maybe it’s okay?

He gets there a few minutes after I do and slides into the booth across from mine. He’s wringing his hands a little, not meeting my eyes. But he is wearing a small little grin. And even though it’s not, like, huge and glowing, I can tell he’s really happy about this. I wonder if he’s as jittery as I am. Probably more. My sweet, nervous Blue. Bram. If he wants to be mine. I guess that’s still to be determined. 

“I like your handwriting.” It’s out of my mouth before I can even think, and seriously. Monumental idiot. 

He flushes, but doesn’t say anything.

WaHo is like super dead, so I feel like I can say anything. 

“I… I need you to know that, because I was worried about it, like, I still like you. Like just as much. Because you’re you. And you’re Blue and I don’t care… And I thought you were cute before I even know so… maybe I like you more now-” I’m certain I’m bright red and I want to stop talking because I’m probably digging some kind of hole for myself, but Bram is still smiling.

“Simon. It’s okay.” he’s smiling and he’s stopped wringing his beautiful hands and I think I might be drowning in his eyes right now. His perfect chocolate eyes. 

“Am I still cute and grammatical?” I can’t stop myself from asking even though I’m nine hundred percent certain I have yet to form a complete sentence around him thus far. Maybe he makes me as I nervous as I maybe make him.

He nods, still staring at his hands, but he’s flushing again, harder this time. And I think I might die here. Just burst from how monumentally happy I am right now, right here in this Waffle House booth before the dinner rush. 

“I’m sorry I was so-”

“I know. So… Martin?” His question is slow, kind of drawn out like he’s scared to ask.

I rake my hand  through my hair nervously. “Yeah. Uh, let’s just say he’s sort of a douchebag and leave it at that.”

I think he gets that Martin is the one that posted the Tumblr thing and also that I really don’t want to talk about it. He just nods.

“You’re quiet.” I say, even though I’m pretty sure I know why. But also, he’s literally always quiet. Bram just…. is so reserved. That’s what I’ve always assumed anyways.

He nods again, the smile returning. And I’m wondering if this is going to be his Simon Smile. I really fucking hope so because I’m sort of in love with it. I’m thinking about kissing that smile before I remember we’re having a conversation.

“A-am I one of the cute boys that gets you tongue-tied?” I ask, a little nervous that I’m wrong and he’s just being Bram.

“Simon, you’re  _ the  _ cute boy. I tried to tell you last night… You’ve-you’ve been the cute boy since freshman year.” Bram stammers and it’s a little strange to hear him stammer because he’s Blue and Blue always is collected I guess. But email is easier.

I’m grinning so brightly and I think my face might actually be on fire. I’m listening for fire alarms, but none go off so either I’m not or WaHo doesn’t have any. I’m hoping it’s the first. Because I’d rather not die right now when there is a cute boy, Blue-Bram, right in front of me and I can reach out and take his hand. Which I really really want to do.

“I kind of want to hold your hand.” I tell him softly, looking down at the table where our hands are resting just a few inches apart.

“So do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli. Anything you recognize is from the book, there is just slight divergence from the canon here.


End file.
